


Don't Take This The Wrong Way

by papesdontsellthemselves



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Bucky Barnes, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, also they cuddle but it's platonic so, im a slut for steve and sam's friendship, really it's just a misunderstanding, this is just a self serving one shot yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papesdontsellthemselves/pseuds/papesdontsellthemselves
Summary: During their hunt for Bucky, Steve and Sam take to cuddling for comfort. Bucky sees and naturally, he's got some feelings about it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 162





	Don't Take This The Wrong Way

**Author's Note:**

> this is really just a short one shot based on an idea i had and i've needed to get back into my writing groove so here we are  
> enjoy!

They’re in a motel room somewhere in Tucson when Steve finally relents. Admittedly, in the month that he and Sam had been searching for Bucky, his sleep schedule hasn’t been so good. He’d been spending his nights tossing and turning, maybe dozing off for short thirty minute spurts here and there only to jolt awake with images of Bucky in the awful looking cryo chamber from the Winter Soldier files flashing in his mind. Usually he’d give up around 5 am and go for a run, then find him and Sam some breakfast. Given the nature of the serum, he was generally functional without substantial sleep.

But now, as he lies in bed, watching lights dance across the ceiling from cars passing outside, he’s just plain exhausted.

He rolls his head to the side, peering through the darkness to where Sam is sprawled out on his bed, arms tucked behind him under his pillow. The idea had been stewing in his mind for a couple weeks now; ever since Sam had reeled him in for a hug after he’d trudged his way through Bucky’s files and he’d honest to god _collapsed_ at the contact, to which Sam had grimaced and murmured something about his “touch starved ass”. Which had gotten him thinking: human contact-- pleasant human contact-- sounds fucking amazing right now. And he hasn’t really had any since the war where it wasn’t uncommon for the Howlies to curl up with each other on cold nights or after long days of shelling. And then there was the matter of Bucky and what he and Steve were to each other. So yeah, in those days, kind contact with another person was never in short supply. 

Steve _misses_ it. And maybe, just maybe, he might be able to sleep through the fucking night if he could get some. 

It’s not like Steve thinks Sam would be opposed to the idea of some down to earth cuddling. He’s a pretty empathetic guy with a solid regard to comfort and a vehement opposition towards what the 21st century calls toxic masculinity. It’s just that Steve doesn’t know how to ask and it would be weird to just climb in with him, right? No, Sam also preaches boundaries and instigating a cuddle session without asking would definitely be a clear violation of those. 

Frustrated, Steve blows a breath out through his nose. Fuck it, he’s just gonna ask. He’s damn tired and Sam will understand. 

He rolls over all the way and props himself up onto his elbow, leaning closer to Sam’s bed, “Sam,” Steve hisses. Sam snuffles and presses his face sideways into his pillow. “Sam, are you awake?”

Sam grunts and Steve sees his eyebrow furrow. “I am now,” He says, voice hoarse with sleep. He doesn’t open his eyes, “What’s going on?”

Steve bites his lip, suddenly unsure, “Uh…”

Sam opens his eyes and Steve can see the concern on his face despite the darkness of the room. 

“You alright?” Sam asks, lifting his head, “What’s wrong?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder, “I can’t sleep.” He says, casting his eyes somewhere over Sam’s shoulder. He sees him soften in his periphery.

“You wanna talk about it? Or, like, what can I do for you, man?”

Steve shrugs again, “Nothing really to talk about, but during the war...I dunno, it’s dumb, just...if things were tough we’d all-- I mean, like, we’d take our bedrolls and--” He can feel himself blushing and he swallows. This _was_ a dumb idea.

The sound of blankets rustling makes Steve look back at Sam, who’s got the covers pulled back in front of him, a welcoming, non-judgemental look on his face. Steve hesitates and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Get over here, dude, I didn’t wake up for nothing.”

Blushing harder, Steve clambers out of bed and awkwardly slides into Sam’s, who pulls the covers back over the both of them. Steve holds himself stiffly until Sam makes a disapproving noise and pulls him down onto his chest.

“I would offer to spoon you, but I can’t sleep on my side,” Sam says, sounding sleepy again. 

“That’s okay,” Steve says, draping an arm across Sam’s stomach and nestling further into his chest, “This is good.”

When Steve wakes up the next morning, he feels more rested than he has in years.

XXX

Things change after that. Casual touches become more frequent and it becomes an unspoken ritual after hard days to climb into the same bed in whatever motel room they’re staying at for the moment and crash, limbs tangled together and Steve’s face mashed into some place on Sam’s torso. 

The stress surrounding Bucky and whatever condition he might be in still eats away at Steve relentlessly and his nightmares haven’t exactly eased up, but a certain, specific weight has lifted off his chest. It’s nice, he finds, to feel close to someone again off his own volition. It’s nice, Steve thinks, to feel seen.

XXX

Steve lies on his side, jaw clenched against his chattering teeth and hands fisted in the sheets in front of him. His stomach is in knots from being held so tense and he tries to reign in the shaking, but his body won’t cooperate and his lungs don’t seem to want to pull in enough air to battle out the adrenaline streaming through his veins. 

The dream hadn’t been anything new, but the Hydra stronghold they’d raided that day had left them a little worse for wear and Bucky’s screams for Steve to _please come find him_ hit harder than usual. Falling asleep had been an accident and it’s not even 10 pm yet and Steve wants to _cry_ his chest hurts so bad. Sam is in the shower and presumably, he hadn’t heard Steve gasp awake seeing as he’s still in there despite it being twenty minutes since he’d woken up. Steve’s partly grateful for that, but he can’t seem to calm himself down and he wants a fucking hug. 

The bathroom door opens and Steve squeezes his eyes shut as Sam’s whistling parts from the sound of the bathroom fan, then dies. He curls further on himself-- he’s been made.

“Hey, hey, whoa,” Sam says. The mattress dips behind Steve as Sam sits down. A moment later, a hand starts rubbing between his shoulder blades, “What happened?”

Steve shakes his head, leaning back into the touch. 

“Alright, that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Sam says, voice even and soothing, “Can you stretch out a little for me?”

Steve forces himself to unwind a little bit and internally lets out a sigh of relief as Sam attaches himself to his back, hands carefully prying Steve’s from their iron grip on the sheets. 

“I’m here, man,” Sam says, starting to take deliberate breaths for Steve to match, “I got you.”

It takes a while, but Steve eventually calms down enough to roll over. Sam immediately accommodates, maneuvering them to their usual position of him on his back and Steve draped across his stomach. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Sam asks gently.

“No,” Steve croaks, clearing his throat, “Thanks.”

“Okay, lemme know if you change your mind,” Sam says, “Wanna watch something? I think this motel has pay-per-view.”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve says, feeling drained, “You pick.”

A couple minutes later, the intro to the first Indiana Jones movie is playing on the TV in front of their beds, volume pitched lower than usual. Sam is running a hand through Steve’s hair and he’s finding it increasingly harder to stay awake. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed with him half-dozing on Sam’s chest, when Sam jolts, head turned towards the window. Steve looks over, too, suddenly alert.

“What?” Steve asks, heart pounding, “What did you see?”

Sam shakes his head, frowning, “I don’t know, I just thought...I don’t know I just felt like I was being watched.” 

“Should we check it out?”

Sam squints, searching the window. A tense minute passes before he shakes his head, “Nah, not worth it.”

Still wary, Steve nods, “If you say so.”

XXX

When they get to the next Hydra stronghold in Malvan, it’s already ransacked. 

Smoke is still drifting up from the ruins and Steve can see mounds of rubble smoldering in the low dusk lighting. There are bodies strewn fairly consistently throughout the debris and Steve tries to ignore them as he wades into the remnants of the base. 

A gunshot sounds somewhere behind him and he glances back to see Sam jogging to catch up with him. He raises an eyebrow.

“Straggler,” Sam says. Steve nods.

“It was him,” Steve says, “Bucky beat us here and recently.”

“I don’t know, man,” Sam says, dubiously, “there are a lot of people out for Hydra right now. Could be anyone angry enough.”

“No,” Steve says, bending down to pluck a sticky note off of one of the guard’s bodies. He can’t make out what it says, but he can tell it’s Bucky’s loopy handwriting. He waggles it and shows it to Sam, “It was him.”

“What’s it say?”

Steve pulls his phone out of one of the pockets on his tac pants and switches on the flashlight, aiming it at the sticky note.

_I was going to reach out, but you and Wilson seemed cozy enough. :( >:(_

An incredulous laugh bursts out of Steve and Sam crowds in close, reading over his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” Sam exclaims, “Does he seriously think-- when did he--” He cuts off, realization dawning on his face, “Oh my god, that night I thought I saw something out the window in Alcaine. That was Barnes.” He bursts out laughing, doubled over, bracing himself on Steve’s shoulder, “He-- he musta seen us cuddling and-- and thought-- oh my _god_.”

Steve’s laughing, too-- elated that Bucky seems to be in his right mind and willing to reconnect. 

“Damn, he’s a jealous type, too?” Sam says, still wheezing, “Wow, Rogers, you landed quite a man there. He even-- he fucking wrote out a grumpy face!”

“Yeah, I wasn’t the only dramatic one,” Steve says, “Peggy always got on us both for that. Liked to say we were a _theatrical pair_.” He says the last part with an accent and Sam starts laughing again.

A rush of warm hope spreads through Steve’s stomach and he closes his hand around the sticky note, “He’s okay.” He says, “He’s gonna come home.”

Sam sobers up a little and claps him on the back, “Yeah he is, man. You’re gonna get your boy back.”

XXX

Still, it’s another month and a half before Bucky finally makes an appearance. 

Sam and Steve had finally decided to take a break, tired of changing time zones three times a week and coming up with mostly dead ends since Bucky’s note back in Malvan. Even the satisfaction of destroying Hydra strongholds has diminished to something like itching a mosquito bite. So they leave one last base in Turkmenabat in ruins and head back stateside, eager to be without responsibilities for a while. 

They’re about to enter Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn when Steve senses something not quite right. He frowns, holding up a hand to stop Sam behind him and looks around. Nothing’s out of place but...but...but the plant outside his door is wet? Someone’s fucking watered his plant. He points it out to Sam and they both draw their handguns, hunching into a familiar defensive formation as Steve unlocks his door and shoulders his way inside.

They both train their guns on the figure sitting on the couch.

“Hey, Steve.” 

Steve falters, lowering his gun, “Buck?”

Bucky is sitting reclined on the couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table. His hair is short again, reminiscent of how it was during the war, but modern enough to blend into crowds and when Steve looks closer, he can see that he’s wearing a pair of his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts.

“Are you-- did you take my clothes? How long have you been here? Did you--did you _water my plant_?” He asks. Sam still has his gun drawn and Steve makes a motion for him to yield. Sam does so reluctantly.

“‘Bout a week? Took you long enough to get back,” Bucky says easily, “And yeah, Geoffrey needed watering, he was looking awful neglected. Also, yeah I don’t really have much of a wardrobe of my own.”

Sam shakes his head, “Geoffrey!?”

But Steve ignores him, heart breaking a little at the thought of Bucky wearing the same clothes for all these months, “Oh. Well, you’re totally welcome to take my clothes any-”

“Yeah, I know. It’s why I did,” Bucky says. He trains his gaze on Sam, “Are you two together?” He asks bluntly.

“I-- no.” Steve says. He’d figured this conversation might happen after the Sticky Note Incident, but it flusters him all the same, “We just-- things were hard for a bit and you remember during the war, it just-- it helps.”

Bucky nods decisively, “Yeah. Makes sense. When I saw you two, I was still trying to remember if you and I were actually a thing before or if that was something Hydra had put in there.” Steve makes a wounded noise and Bucky looks at Sam again, “Sorry about your steering wheel, I can steal you a new car.”

“Oh, I-- no,” Sam says, alarmed, “That’s alright, man, you don’t have to...uh--” he looks to Steve for help, who just shrugs, “It’s fine.” He finishes, visibly forcing nonchalance, “We’re cool.”

Bucky smiles and stands, crossing to them, “In that case, I should properly introduce myself,” He extends a hand to Sam, “James Barnes but folks call me Bucky.”

Sam takes his hand, “Sam Wilson. Good to meet you, man.”

“Back atcha,” Bucky turns his attention on Steve, looking him up and down, “You been eatin’, Stevie? You look skinny, like a little angry alley cat.”

“Fuck you, too.” Steve says brightly, “Sorry Sam and I made you jealous.”

“Wasn’t jealous,” Bucky grumbles. Steve just laughs and pulls him in for a kiss, “Missed ya. You stayin’?”

Bucky presses their foreheads together and for the first time in 70 years, Steve feels complete, “I am now.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, chiefs  
> feedback is always appreciated


End file.
